


The Box

by sophinisba



Category: Homicide: Life on the Street, Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Character of Color, Crossover, Gen, Interrogation, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-28
Updated: 2007-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba





	The Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [claudia603](https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/gifts).



"Well, ain't that nice. We got us a fairy right out of the story books." The man spoke loudly, like a showman in a theatre.

"Not a fairy," Frodo said again – he'd stopped counting the times he told them the same things. "And not an elf, or a...leprechaun, as you suggested. I'm a hobbit, a halfling, I'm...I'm so very tired, sir. Could you please..."

"No, I don't think you get to make requests just yet. See, out there in the rest of the city, or over in fairyland or – where was it he said he was from?"

"Middle-earth," said the other man, leaning casually against the wall, as if indifferent both to Frodo's distress and to his partner's performance.

"Over in Middle-earth, whenever you get tired, you can just go lay down and have a rest. When you want a drink of water or something to eat, you ask for it and one of your little fairy friends can get it for you. But this ain't Middle-earth, is it, Detective Kellerman?"

"No, Detective Lewis, this is Baltimore."

"Baltimore," he repeated. "But more important than that, you're in the Box, and that means _we're_ in charge now. That means when I tell you to sit up straight and listen, you do it. That means when I ask you a question, you _answer_ me!" He slammed his hand down on the table in front of Frodo, who couldn't help jumping away from the blow. He did not believe that Detective Lewis truly meant to hurt him, but he certainly didn't want him to relax either.

The room where they'd been questioning him for the last two hours was clearly built by and for Big Folk. The table and the chair were overlarge and uncomfortable for Frodo, and yet he felt cramped, trapped. If one or the other of these men threatened him, there was nowhere for Frodo to flee to. The fact that Frodo was made to sit still at the table while the other two paced around the room on their long legs made the size difference between them all the more evident, and made Frodo feel completely powerless.

"Now," Lewis continued, his voice quiet again but leaning in close in front of Frodo's face, crowding him, "tell me what you were doing between ten and eleven o'clock last night."

"I've told you, I was out on the road with my friends. I do not know how I came to be here."

"I think I've heard about enough of that," said Detective Kellerman. He pushed off from the wall and stalked toward Frodo at the table, while at the same time Lewis backed off a few inches. It was almost like a dance, or a game that they played, taking turns at being the one to harass Frodo, except that this game was full of anger and shouting, and Frodo never had his own turn to speak freely. "I've heard some really dumb stories in my time, but that takes the cake. We're here trying to solve a _murder_, and you wanna tell us you've never even heard of Baltimore before today?"

"It's only the truth," Frodo said softly, knowing they still wouldn't believe him.

He hadn't lied to the men in all their questions, out in the city where they found him or here at their headquarters. But he hadn't been able to tell them the whole truth either. He'd promised to keep it secret and safe, after all, though he really didn't believe Gandalf had ever expected him to wind up in a place like this. Apart from all the trouble with the Ring, who would ever believe him if he said he'd taken a fall in Bree and opened his eyes lying on a street in a city in a different world?

As if the tavern in Bree hadn't been strange and frightening enough. _If you don't keep your feet,_ said his Uncle Bilbo's voice in his head, _there is no knowing where you might be swept off to._ Frodo buried his face in his hands.

It wouldn't be so bad, he thought, if he'd only had to face one of them at a time. And he knew which one he'd prefer to talk to. Perhaps, if he could speak to Detective Lewis alone, if the man would stay quiet long enough to let Frodo tell his story, he might even convince him it was true.

Frodo had been observing them both and had seen that, even though Lewis teased him more and made more of a show of his anger, there was also more real curiosity underneath the act. A sadness in his eyes, perhaps from having to deal so often with crime and death, and a real desire to bring the murderers to justice.

Frodo recognized that both men were quite handsome, but he was especially attracted to  
Lewis with his strong, round features, his smooth brown skin, and his easy way of speaking – even when Frodo could make very little sense of his words.

The other interested Frodo less, though clearly they depended on each other. Kellerman was frightening in his anger, yes, but that anger seemed unfocused, almost clumsy, like that of a child.

During the arrest Kellerman had been the one to clap the manacles on Frodo's wrists and to shove him toward their extraordinary horseless carriage. Lewis had been the one to help him into the back seat, and his touch had been more careful, almost gentle, though still quite firm. It was as if he respected the work he did too much to be rough about it.

"I can't listen to this anymore," Kellerman said now. "I'm gonna go get some coffee. You want some?"

"No, thanks," said Lewis. The offer was clearly only intended for him, although Frodo had asked several times for something to drink. Again, Frodo sensed that all of this was quite calculated, but that didn't lessen its effect on him. He felt worthless, as if he really were the lowlife criminal they accused him of being.

Kellerman shrugged as he shut the door behind him. Lewis sat down across the table, never taking his eyes off his suspect. Once Kellerman was gone, Frodo raised his head and met Lewis's gaze.

"Detective Lewis, I have committed no crime. Please believe me. If you'll only explain to me what's going on I will do everything I can to help you discover the truth."

"How 'bout this. You said last night you were out on the road?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why don't you tell me where you were going, and everything that happened once you got there."

Frodo had already told an edited version of his story, but he found, as he'd hoped, that it was easier to talk with only the one man in the room. Lewis crossed his arms in front of him and listened, not interrupting once, as Frodo told of his and his companions' escape from the Black Riders and their arrival in Bree.

Telling the story at a slower pace, Frodo remembered more details about the room that had disappeared when he fell off the table, and in particular he thought of the mysterious hooded man who'd sat in a corner, smoking his pipe and watching the hobbits. There was something alike in his cool regard as in that of the detective who watched him now. And although Frodo's mind remembered Gandalf's words and the need for caution, his heart told him: _Yes, this man will be on your side. This is the one you can trust._

Frodo told him everything.


End file.
